


You have my word

by Goldpeaches



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Battle of Azanulbizar, Battle of Five Armies, Community: hobbit_kink, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Thorin kept a promise and one time he broke it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You have my word

_Promises. We all make them._

_Some promises are easy to keep._

“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin, look. Look!” Fíli bounces around Thorin’s feet, tugging on his coat, full of excited energy.

“Look here, look how tall I am!” Fíli shows off the newest notch on the doorframe indicating his height. It is about the width of a thumb above the previous one.

“By Durin’s beard! How tall do you want to grow, Fili? You’ll be as tall as an elf if you keep growing like this.” Thorin grabs his nephew and lifts the giggling boy onto his shoulders. “How does the world look from up there?”

“Nooo!” Fíli squeals. “I will stop growing when I am this big.” He puts his hand on top of Thorin’s head.

“That’s a good height,” Thorin agrees and turns to his younger nephew, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, standing at his side of the doorframe, shuffling his feet and looking uncomfortable. “What about you, Kíli?”

Thorin has to kneel down and it breaks his heart a little to see that there is no new notch. Measuring day is a big affair for the boys, and Thorin loves to see their faces beaming with pride when they show him how much they’ve grown.

“I’m sorry,” Kíli says quietly and Thorin is sure that the boy is not apologizing for his failure to gain a few inches, but for disappointing his uncle. On the one hand Thorin is glad that his nephews haven’t caught on to the fact that they could never disappoint him, but on the other hand, it would be cruel to let the young dwarf suffer. 

“That’s okay. Think nothing off it.” Thorin scoops the boy up into his arm and settles him on his hip. “You’ll just grow twice as much until next time.”

Kíli nods slowly, but his eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“But what if I won’t grow anymore? What if I stay this small forever?” His breath hitches and he buries his face in Thorin’s shirt.

“It doesn’t matter,” Thorin says and hugs him a little tighter. “Your mother and I will still love you and be proud of you, whatever happens. You could stay small forever or have huge feet or never grow a proper beard…”

Both boys giggle at that, because the thought of a dwarf without a beard is just too funny.

“And if I grow as tall as an elf?” Fíli asks tentatively.

“We will still love you.”

“Promise?” Kíli asks.

“Promise.”

 

_Other promises are made with no intention of keeping them._

Thorin glances over at her. She is lying on her stomach with a sheet barely covering her bottom. She has a lovely body, round and plump, with short legs and soft curves. She is the perfect woman and Thorin would like nothing better than to spread her legs and claim that body one more time before the peaceful quiet of the morning is over.

Her eyes are still closed; light lashes resting against rosy, freckled cheeks. Thorin brushes the blond curls and braids that are a little dishevelled after the night before away to see more of her face.

She stirs and stretches, when Thorin runs his hand over her back and the curve of her arse.

“That’s nice,” she whispers and blinks up at him sleepily. “Do you want to do it again?” She turns around and, yes, Thorin definitely wants to. He cups her breast in his hand, squeezing gently and brushing his thumb over her nipple.

“You are very tempting,” he says, between light kisses into her neck, “but I have some business to attend to.”

“Sounds boring,” she replies. Her fingers gently twist around Thorin’s hair.

“It is. But if I want to take back Erebor and make you my queen…”

She blushes and giggles, lightly swats his chest.

“Be serious, Thorin.”

He is dead serious, she is a woman he could fall in love with and that is so inappropriate. And inconvenient. He doesn’t have time for love. Not now, when he is about to reclaim his kingdom under the mountain.

She gives him a quick and sloppy blowjob before he has to join Balin and Gandalf to discuss their impending quest.

Thorin leaves a small pouch filled with coins on the nightstand, her payment for the night, and promises himself he won’t ever ask for her services again. 

 

_There are promises that we make in the heat of the moment or the agony of grief that could prove to be too much for us to take on alone._

They are all nameless to Thorin as he turns over one dead body after the next one. He recognizes some of the faces, but he doesn’t recall a single name. He staggers over limbs, weapons and pieces of armour, dragging behind him his sword and the oaken branch he just cannot let go. 

There is another one of his kin, buried beneath a dead orc. Thorin kicks the filthy creature off the dwarf and… no, this is not his father. He looks up and around the vast battlefield and he screams. A furious roar that echoes off the side of the mountain. 

 

“It is getting dark, Thorin, you are exhausted.” Balin’s hand is gentle against Thorin’s back. “We all are exhausted.”

“I need to find my father,” Thorin growls and keeps going with the stubbornness of a true dwarf. “I need to find my father. Our people need a leader.”

There is a chance that Thrain is still alive, wounded somewhere on the battlefield and Thorin would never forgive himself if he left his father behind to die.

“I think we may already have one,” Balin says and gestures towards the few dwarves still standing. They follow Thorin’s example and search through the piles of bodies for survivors. 

“No.” Thorin replies and shakes his head. He cannot lead them to a new and save life, for all that is on his mind is revenge and death. Taking over the lead during the battle was just instinct driven by rage. 

He is glad when he sees Dwalin approaching, offering the opportunity to change the subject.

“I thought you might want to have this.” On his outstretched hands, Dwalin offers Thrain’s sword to Thorin. Thorin takes it hesitatingly. A warrior never left his weapon behind and they all knew what an abandoned sword meant.

“I’m sorry,” says Dwalin, but Thorin hardly hears it. He feels his legs weaken with grief and sits down on the closest rock. He runs his fingers over his father’s seal, etched into the rain guard.

“I will make them pay for what they did to us.” Thorin’s voice is low and rough. “I will lead our people to safety. I will be their king. I will built an army and I will take revenge on every orc I come across until the day I die.” He thrusts the sword deeply into the ground. “And that is a promise.”

“And we will stand by your side, laddie.”

 

_And then there are these promises that simply cannot be kept._

Thorin wakes up with his head throbbing, the battle roaring around him. He knows that he is gravely wounded, he can feel his body shutting down as he lies in a sheltered spot behind some rocks. He sluggishly lifts his head he can see Fíli and Kíli defending him. They do not fight with grace or skill, but fight with the fierce desperation of losing. 

He feels blindly for his sword and pushes his suffering body just a little further. He manages to scramble to his knees when one of the boys screams in agony and stumbles backwards.

“Fíli!” Kíli yells and that second of distraction is enough for the enemy to pierce his chest with a spear. He goes down with his brother.

They lie next to each other, Fíli is writhing in pain, Kíli breathing in wheezing gulps of air. Thorin reaches out, takes their hands in his. Their fingers are cold and covered in blood. Their eyes are fearful and bright with unshed tears.

“I’m scared, Uncle,” one of them whispers.

“Don’t be.” Thorin says and it takes all of his remaining strength to sit on his knees. “I promise, we are going to get through this just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Five times Thorin kept a promise and one time he broke it.
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=13252541#t13252541


End file.
